


Worlds Collide

by runningsissors



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Post-Film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1196223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningsissors/pseuds/runningsissors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Swans and crows don’t land on the same spot or so it goes, and Kristoff understands that better now than he ever has before."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worlds Collide

**Author's Note:**

> written for greengardens over @ livejournal. Meant to be gen, but the romance got away on me.

There’s an old proverb spoken amongst the people of the mountains, _swans and crows don’t land on the same spot_ or so it goes, and Kristoff understands that better now than he ever has before.

 _I’m a crow_ , he thinks, his large palm gripped tight in Anna’s as she pulls him through room after opulent room in Arendelle’s stately castle. It’s a surreal experience even being here, let alone to have Anna’s excited nonstop chatter ringing in his ears as she wheels him through _another_ room solely designated for displaying art.  
  
“What’s its purpose?” He’d made the mistake of asking once, but had quickly been told that “its purpose is meant to make you _feel_ , you big oaf.” Anna had smiled affectionately at him and rolled her eyes like that was suppose to make sense, and he supposes to her it does.    
  
But what’s the point in that? If it doesn’t serve a purpose or a function, what’s the point in having it? He’s lived his whole life just scraping by, with nothing but what he’d need to survive. With Sven and him always on move in search of work and shelter, his life fit within the confines of his small sleigh. The concept of possessions without a functional purpose just didn’t have a place in his life.

He feels uncomfortable, out of place, and inappropriate amongst the makings of Anna’s world, like a bull in a china shop. And he can feel eyes on them, the way the staff watch him with varying expressions of apprehension; the way they hover like a constant chaperone to ensure their princess maintains the level of decorum royalty is meant to uphold. Regardless of whom her company is.

 _I’m a crow_ , he thinks again because even with her oddities, Anna is a swan, and no matter how many fancy new titles he’s given, they’ll _never_ completely match up.

 

 

+

 

 

There are very few instances in his life where Kristoff would admit to having dreams or expectations about his future (much to Bulda’s exasperation), but he can safely say the idea of sharing his life with another person had never been one of them.

Even now when back up in the mountains, hard at work, he’ll get caught up in the normalcy of the task and just for a moment it almost feels like it always has. Just Sven, the ice, and him: the only constants his life as ever known. But then he’ll scratch at his head, readjusting the cap slipping down his forehead, and he comes crashing back to reality.

 _Anna_.

Anna had knit him a new hat, but it’s just a little too big and he hadn't the heart to tell her. And that’s just _so_ like Anna, so caring and loving in everything she does, even if the end result isn’t exactly perfect. It’s frightening to think about how quickly she’s wound her way around his heart, even if he doesn’t want to admit it, and sometimes he’s still overwhelmed by how much of a presence she is in his life.

The idea that he’d fall in love had never occurred to him, not once. But now he has and everything’s changed. His life of solitude is no longer enough. He wants new things now. He wants Anna’s laughter and her sweet smile. He wants the warm feeling of her hand in his, and the way she throws herself into everything she does with all she has. He wants the optimism she brings to his life, and her positive outlook on everything, no matter how hard it’s been.

 _Anna._  

She’s the biggest contradiction he’s ever encountered in his entire life, but he supposes that fits their whole relationship so it shouldn't be surprising. The way she hikes up her expensive skirts to climb a tree in the castle gardens or the castle roof; the way she snorts when she laughs too hard; the way she eats like someone’s about to take her plate away from her at any moment. She’s the most unladylike princess he’s ever imagined, and he admires her for it. She doesn’t fit the mould of what her life should be like, and he’s just lucky enough to be a part of it.

 

 

+

 

 

Kristoff’s discovered Anna has this uncanny talent of turning him into an unravelled mess whenever they’re alone. He’ll add it to the tally of very _un_ -princess behaviour she’s prone to display. Well, if he’s honest it’s not like he really knows how women are meant to behave, but he has a feeling they’re not meant to be as _assertive_ as Anna is.

The way Anna pulls him down and into her so there is no space between their bodies; the way she slides her hands up his arms and over his shoulders; the way she tugs at his neck and her fingers twine into his hair, well he’s positive that’s not how princesses are meant to kiss. And sometimes he thinks maybe he should say something to keep her out of trouble. That somehow he’s taking advantage of her innocent, and trusting nature when he rests his hands along the base of her spine.

He’s pretty sure this isn’t how your suppose to properly court a young lady, especially a princess, and he wants to do it right. But when she kisses him so earnest and eager, like she’s trying to steal the air from his lungs... well it’s easy to get carried away. It’s simple to completely lose himself in her; to get caught up in the way their legs tangle together in the soft grass; in her breathy giggle as he awkwardly palms the swell of her small breast. He chokes out a shallow groan at the feel of her thigh sliding up in between them, flushing up to his ears in an embarrassing blush. But it’s so good. It feels like this is how they should always be for the rest of their lives. And now he gets it, the way the men at the camp talk about this like it’s the best thing you’ll ever kno...  
  
Someone calls Anna’s name and the two quickly spring a part like they’ve been doused with ice water.  There’s a blade of grass lying across her collarbone, and he wants to brush it away, maybe even run his finger along her skin and watch as she sucks in a breath...

No. Wait, what?

Anna turns her head to look at him, her lips swollen and cheeks rosy as she tries to catch her breath. She giggles softly, teeth chomping at her bottom lip. “ _Whoa_ , wow, um, okay. I better go before Gerda comes out here to hunt us down.”  She’s up on her knees now, quickly brushing at her skirts before leaning down to kiss him once more. It's a messy kiss without any real thought. Just her lips slotting in against his before she pulls back with a small, almost shy like smile. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

He nods, but she’s already rushing off, leaving him alone in the grass to put himself back together.

 

 

+

 

 

There is a narrow path up the western pass that Kristoff takes when the snow’s not too deep in the winter for the sleigh and the bite of the wind is not too unforgiving. In the fall though, it’s a picturesque view of the fjords and the looming North Mountain. It’s a gently sloping plateau above the sea level, but the tree line is never far away.

In a few weeks time he and the rest of the men will head up the mountain for the fall harvest, when the ice is still supple and easy to split. He won’t admit it to Anna, but he’s nervous about how the upcoming harvest season will go. Now that Queen Elsa has bestow upon him the title of Arendelle’s _official_ Ice Master and Deliver (a title he knows was made up for him probably at Anna’s prodding) there will no doubt be resentment amongst the harvesters who have slaved away their whole life at this trade.  

Sven cocks his head, always so in tune to whatever Kristoff’s feelings are, but Kristoff isn’t sure this time that Sven can help him. He’s always known where he stood before, but that was before... well everything that’s happened, and now he’s straddled between this great divide. On one side lies the mountain, his livelihood, and all the aspects that had made up his life; and on the other lies Anna, his new obligations, and the uncertain future he’s forging for himself back in Arendelle.

Sven throws him another look, slowing down to a gentle trot and Kristoff shakes his thoughts away. “Sorry buddy, no, I’m good. I swear.” He scans the trees behind him as Arendelle shrinks into the distance. “I think we’ll be okay.”

 

 

+

 

 

Eventually with the extra intake in his ice business, he has enough saved up that for the first time in his life he can afford to keep something more permanent than a sleigh. Before, when the winter season had approached and the weather was too hazardous to harvest ice, he and Sven would trek down through the mountains and harvest ice further south towards the Southern Isles where the weather was warmer. But now he can send men to do that without having to do it himself.

He takes a room in one of the small mountain villages just outside Arendelle’s boarders, made up of sun-parched timber buildings on the sloping hillsides meadows where the local farmer’s cows and sheep graze in the summer months. It’s a tiny space with a small stone hearth which heats the room quickly, but it’s four walls and a roof, which is more than Kristoff’s ever possessed in his whole life. Plus he’s never seen Sven so content as the reindeer makes himself at home amongst the cows he shares a stable with.   

Anna couldn’t understand why he’d prefer this to the castle, like she’d suggested he should live, but to him this is better than all the luxury the castle could provide because it’s _his._

Of course, that doesn’t stop the embarrassment that floods him when Anna finally wrangles her way up into his little room. He cringes at the crunch the straw in his mattress makes when Anna sits on it; or the pile of dirty laundry at the bottom of his wardrobe she notes with a smirk, and a _Geez Kristoff, do they not have hangers in the mountains?_

He watches her as she takes in the rest- from the way his miniature dining table wobbles ever so slightly, to the faint smell of manure that wafts in through the open window, and he realizes that just like with the trolls, it suddenly matters to him what Anna thinks. This is who he is – chipped dishware and all – and it matters to him that Anna accepts it, that she accepts _him_. 

Because she matters to him, impossibly so, and he wants her to be as much a part of his world, as he is hers. Because if they can do this then that proverb’s wrong – swans and crows _can_ land in the same spot. He won’t have to watch his heart get broken _again_. They can make it work.

Anna runs a hand across his quilt and smiles. “I like it,” she declares, grinning as she pushes her travel cloak off her shoulders.

He scratches at the back of the neck. “Yeah? I mean, I know it’s a bit, uh, _fragrant_ , and small and whatnot, but it’s great for Sven. He gets all the hay he wants, and plus they let me keep my sleigh in the barn so that’s good too, I guess, and I...” 

Anna laughs, a hand going to cover her smile. “No, it’s perfect. I like everything about it, honest.” She stands now, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull his close. They sway on their feet for a moment, her forehead buried into the fabric of his shirt as his hands settle on her back.

It’s nice. He thinks maybe he likes this most of all, the way she fits into him just so.

“Hey,” she says suddenly, chin jutted out as she tilts her head up to meet his eye. “You promised you’d make me some _real_ food, not just a bundle of carrots. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging at one of her braids. “All right, all right, feistypants,” he grumbles, “I’ll see what I can do.” She claps her hands together, a satisfied grin on her face as she plops back down onto his bed with a sigh.

“Carrots might be fine for a funny looking donkey and a reindeer, but this girl needs more than veggies.”

He shakes his head, stokes the fire and grins shyly to himself. _Yeah,_ he thinks, _we’ll be okay._


End file.
